I Will Rise
by fairfarrenlovelylydia
Summary: Rick and Glenn have been missing since a supply run nearly two weeks earlier. When Chey finds a vital clue to their whereabouts, the group must make a decision to risk looking for their fearless leader and former Walker Bait. But does that mean that another threat has come to Daryl, Carol, Chey, and the rest of the splitting group? 20 years into the future. Caryl. Ceth. R
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Obviously I don't own _The Walking Dead_ or Daryl. Or Carol. Or Rick. Or any of the canon character. However, I do own Chey. And Law. :) **

**Also- I don't normally like writing non canon characters into a brand new canon with setting a bases (a la Mad Sort of Love) but _The Walking Dead _just pushes me to do all this crazy stuff! So, I hope you like it. Leave me a comment if you do, leave me a complaint if you don't. Basically, just review!  
**

Her legs were burning, calf muscles screaming for her to slow down while her thighs sent spasms of pain up her hips. She ignored them as she made her way through the forest; trying to keep her heaving breaths quiet as her heart raced with the exertion she put her body to because of the sound of the rustling bushes behind her. She was going to make it out of this.

The tree loomed before her and she felt a victory smile sweep across her face. It would be a jump and a good grab and she would be able to scale that tree with no problem. She would be able to do this as she had done a hundred times before. Then she would be cornered in the tree for a spell as the Walkers gathered at the base, growling up at her. She could figure out a way to get through the tree tops and to another tree; these creatures were too dumb to figure out what she was up to once she was hidden in the leaves.

She paused in her planning as she neared the tree, her legs making shorter strides to gain speed. With a powerful burst of energy she jumped and caught hold of the branch in her hands, her body swinging violently as it was paused in its forward momentum. She let her body sway for a few breaths and then swung forward to wrap her legs around the branch. She hugged the limb with her thighs as she began to let go with her arms. She contorted her body to wind over the branch and settled onto the tree.

Her timing could not have been better planned as the Walkers made their way around the tree base; the once quiet wood was now filled with the growling and groaning of the undead. She let out her own exasperated groan as she took a moment to collect her bearings.

The crossbow that sat cocked on her back was digging into her shoulder; it was balanced poorly on the backpack that she had stuffed to the brim with canned goods and medications. It was going to set her off balance when she began to tree hop, but she would need to figure that out when the time came.

Now she needed to focus on the direction she was going to head in. Not a soul in the group knew where she had gone off to, and her parents were going to be livid when they would discover that she had gone expressly against their wishes. But again, there was time for that later. She switched back to her strategic mindset and examined the woods around her.

The blessing of this tree was turning out to be a curse as she looked around and found that not a tree lingered close to this one. What the fuck kind of forest was this if the trees didn't grow close together? She let out a growl of anger as she shifted on the branch, which began to creak underneath her.

What she wouldn't give to be her lithe twelve year old self again.

She shook the thought from her head as she slowly scooted back on the branch toward the trunk of the tree, moving gingerly so as not to cause the branch to crack more quickly. With a glance toward the sky again she saw a thicker branch above her. She would need to move quickly, but carefully to make sure that she would not break the branch she sat on now that kept her from falling ten feet to the Walkers below her. She took deep breaths to try to calm her racing heart beat and spinning head so she could think clearly. Any wrong move, any mis-shift of her weight, the branch was going to crash and she was doomed. If the fall and the Walkers didn't get her, the crossbow and its few arrows were sure to leave a mark. After all, she had heard the story a million times of what had happened the last time someone fell from a height with a crossbow on his back. Oh, and she had been warned a million more times about running off. When she saw Walkers, she was to run to her parents. They would protect her.

She was sixteen now and there were plenty of things that she could do without her parent's supervision now. She was trying to prove that to them now; running off to town to retrieve some much needed medication and food was something that Carl and Law had been arguing over for days. Carl was the one that wanted to go claiming that it was because it was Beth that needed the medications most. Law had threatened that Carl was needed with the group, ever since his father and Glenn had disappeared on a food run a couple weeks ago, even going out to town was unsafe. Carl was arguing that no one should go alone then. It was nothing but a headache that drove both her parents crazy. Her old man had even considered going out on his own until her mother had spoken sense into him. He was getting older and it was better off that he was with the group to hunt; the same fate that befell Glenn and Rick could befall him just the same. Reluctantly, her father had stayed behind.

So she had snuck off extremely early in the morning. The sun had not even snuck over the hills yet and the only light in the camp came from the dying embers. Her parents were nestled in their sleeping bags beside the fire; she was across the fire pit from them. She had not slept the entire night, waiting for the right moment to slip off. It required her breaking her parent's cardinal rule: staying in their sights.

Now she was wishing she had obeyed that one simple rule. Now she was Walker bait, clear and simple. She bit her lip as she slowly gathered her feet in front of her body, shifting to her heels as she slowly inched up the tree, backpack scraping against the rough bark of the tree as she pressed her back hard against the trunk to keep from falling. The branch groaned beneath her weight as she slowly arched her hands over her head and caught hold of the branch above her. She let out a deep breath as she tightened her grip, standing to full height.

She was glad that she had achieved a strong hold on the branch, because as soon as she stood up the branch beneath her snapped and fell to the creatures below. The growling of the monsters became louder as they caught hold of the branch. Some of them grabbed hold of the tree limb grabbed it hungrily, but threw it aside as they realized it was not a human arm. They now looked up to the girl hanging from the branch; her scream had reaffirmed the Walkers of her presence.

"'Ey brainy," the sound of a rough man's voice filled her ears. She held her breath as she hung from the branch. "Ya think ya got yer dinner." The squishing sound of a knife making contact with a Walker brain quickly followed. "Chey?"

"Yeah, I'm here Dad," She let out a call as she hung from the branch. Her breathing slowed as she realized she was safe-for now. At the bottom of the tree among the Walkers was another sort of danger, but at least it wasn't lethal.

"Where's my weapon, girl?" The voice shouted. Chey groaned and used her arms to pull herself up the next branch, setting on its wider ledge. She reached for the crossbow over her shoulder and held the heavy weapon in her hands for a moment.

"D'ya think you can take out these Walkers before you go worrying about that?" A female voice joined the gruff one below her. Chey leaned back against the tree trunk and watched her life flash before her eyes. She was more than dead; she was going to be ripped apart by her parents and then fed to the Walkers.

"It would make thangs a lot more easier down here." The man replied.

"Okay, love." Replied the woman her voice sounding unconvinced.

"Your daughter is going ta get the whooping of a life time." The man replied. Chey listened as the groans below her were slowly silenced and before long another voice was calling her down.

"CHEROKEE ROSE, YA GET YA ASS DOWN HERE!" The man sounded very angry and Chey knew she was bound for that whooping. She slung the crossbow over her shoulder once again and then slowly she made her way down the tree. The way down was a lot quicker than the way up, but it was the fear of her parents below that kept her making her way swiftly down the rough bark of the tree.

"Daryl, before you make a scene make sure your daughter is alright." Her mother responded and Chey saw the look of worry on her face.

"You alright?" Her father asked as he made his way over to her. She stood dejectedly, the backpack hanging off her one arm as she reached back and took the crossbow from her shoulder.

"Yeah, just a li'l shaken," she wouldn't look her father in the eyes as he took the crossbow from her hand with a yank.

"What the hell do ya think ya'll were doin'?" Her father asked her as she walked by him, gripping the strap of the bag with her free hand, brushing her hair away from her eyes with the other.

"Cherokee, love," her mother reached out and caught hold of her forearm as she passed.

"I just wanted to solve this group's problem," she ripped her arm out of her mother's hand, just as her father had ripped the weapon from her own.

"So ya think runnin' off with your old man's crossbow, the very weapon that has done nothing but _protect _ya since ya were little, ya thought that was a good idea to solve some problems." Her father was walking behind her and Chey could feel the rage building in her chest.

"I thought maybe someone could treat me like a sixteen year old!" She turned with a force that sent her braid from its home at the curve of her neck over her shoulder to rest between her shoulder blades.

"Don't ya talk back to me that way!" Her father came at her with a raised finger, warning her silently to watch her mouth.

"Give me the whoopin' then, old man." She answered, with knitted brows and a wrinkled nose.

"Are you two done hollerin' at each other? It's nearly dinner time and Chey appears to need a good cleanin' along with a good meal."

Her father turned to look at her mother, his frown softening but his gaze was still hard. "Fine," he conceded with a nod. "But I keep my bow."

"I think we can agree to that," Her mother answered with crossed arms. "Chey, it was very wrong of you to take your father's weapon. It's stealing, young woman." Her eyebrow arched when she said it, and Chey bowed her head apologetically.

"Sorry mama," she answered.

"Let's go back and get something to eat and then we can talk about this properly." Her mother answered her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders with a sad smile. She placed a kiss on Chey's sweaty temple and brushed back some of her brown hair. "My Cherokee Rose, I am glad to see you are safe. I love you very much."

"I love you too, mama." Chey responded and rested her head on her mother's shoulder as the family walked through the forest back to camp and the others.

* * *

"I don't know what got into that girl's head, runnin' off without tellin' anyone where she was off ta and not takin' anyone with her." Daryl groaned as he sat by Carol. The two were in the front of the fire where Carol was preparing her family's dinner, Chey had been sent to go cool off in their tent after she had washed up in the creek.

"I think she has some of your blood in her, that's what I think." Carol looked up at him with raised eyebrows and half a smile. Her blue eyes twinkled at him and he couldn't help but curse that he had a kid in the world. Nothing good came about with Dixon blood.

"She was bein' a total idiot," Daryl swore as he threw down the rag he was using to clean his arrows. "She's lucky she didn't completely ruin my good stock of arrows."

"You did train her how to use them," his wife looked up at him as she placed the top back on the rusting metal pan which contained squirrel stew. "She has been trained by the very best. She can hunt, track, climb trees, fend for herself—she can _survive, _Daryl. I think she wants to."

"She isn't smart enough to stay at camp, where it's _safe _and there's no need ta _survive_." Daryl snapped back at her.

"She's going through her teenage years; no doubt she is just figuring things out. It must be awful having to find out your place in the world when there's only a shadow of one left." Carol reached out and grabbed his hand in hers, smiling at him.

"You had a kid," he responded, placing a kiss on her hand. "Why don't ya know the answers?"

"I'm afraid I didn't get past—I didn't get past childhood with-" Carol stopped as she couldn't bear to say her first daughter's name.

"Oh, shit, love, I didn't mean to bring up-" Daryl stumbled through an apology that Carol could only giggle at.

"Chey is nothing like Sophia was either. She didn't grow up in the world that Sophia did. In many ways, she grew up in a better one. Just like my first baby, you have done more for her than my first husband ever would've." Carol squeezed his hand to assure him of it.

"Don't be linin' up ta give me any father of the year awards," Daryl shook his head.

"Parenthood is all about making mistakes," Carol responded, reassuring him with a smile. "It's just whether we can own up to all of them."

"Is this your sneaky way of saying that I am wrong?" Daryl chewed the inside of his lip as he waited for a response from Carol.

"No, but yes," she responded with a heavy sigh. "Daryl, my love, I do not think that my baby should have gone out there in the dark with no one knowing where she is and being all alone—that was wrong. But I think she is old enough for her to be included in some of the runs. When you go in, take her on the bike with you."

"Carol, I was gonna do that, but with Rick and Glenn disappearin'…I'm just not sure it's right. Not to mention I have ya tellin' me not ta go!" His blue eyes reflected concern and Carol sighed. She reached out and cupped his cheek tenderly.

"Maybe you are right, I don't know. I just wish that we knew what happened to those two. Got some sort of sign or something." She remarked as she pulled the pot from the spit of the fire pit. "It's time for dinner anyways. Why don't you go get your daughter and we can have us something to eat. It'll give us time to talk to her, explain more. She is sixteen and she is nearing old enough to be an adult. We can't shelter her forever."

Daryl responded with a grunt as he stood from his cross legged position. His muscles were achy and sluggish, a symptom of growing older. Damn shame that the apocalypse didn't slow their aging; the older they got, the more chance of becoming Walker food. It was a horrible chain of events.

"Chey," Daryl called for his daughter as he neared the tent. He could hear her sniffing even with the unique scratch of the silky outer fabrics of the abode that was jostled as the occupant moved about.

"Just a minute," She called. Daryl stopped, his hands crossing over his chest as he waited for Chey. She opened the tent zipper hastily, stepping out of the tent with her boots in hand. Daryl smiled at the hiking boots that she held; he had found them for her last fall when the group had stumbled upon another one of those outlet malls. Most of them were ransacked, but searching had become a natural instinct and he happened upon a shoe store where he found the most magnificent pair of hiking boots in his daughter's size. He had snatched them without hesitation, and they had been faithful friends to her ever since.

"C'mon, Chey, your mother has dinner ready." Daryl waved his hand at her as he made his way back to the fire ring. He heard Chey's footfalls behind him as she followed.

"Dad, I'm sorry that I did that, all of it." Her voice was husky, most likely from crying. Why the fuck did women cry so much? "I shouldn't have taken your bow, shouldn't have run off like that. I should have just stayed put and let Carl and Law have it out…and I guess in the short end: I'm sorry."

Daryl sighed and shook his head. "I understand, Chey, why ya did it. I don't agree with ya, but I understand. And it was brave, foolish, but brave of ya ta do so."

"So, we're good now?" She asked. Daryl turned to look at his daughter. She was blossoming into a beautiful woman, and he was glad for once that the world was under populated with the male species. She had braided her chestnut brown hair into a ponytail once again, her skin was bronze from the summer sun, and her blue eyes danced with energy and fire. She was breath taking and he wasn't sure how such a good lookin' kid came from such an ugly dude. It must have been Carol that played into the equation.

"We are never not good, Chey," he informed her as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

* * *

Carol turned around when the two came toward her, a smile on her face. "I am glad to see that father and daughter are once again well with one another." She responded as she poured the stew into chipped and stained bowls that the family had catered around with them for years.

"I gave her that whoopin' she was promised," Daryl responded and reached out to rough up his daughter's hair. She pushed away from him with annoyance.

"I just fixed my hair all nice for the apology and then you go and ruin it." She jokingly complained at him.

"Alright, you two," Carol laughed as she handed each of them a bowl. "Let's get some dinner into us. We have some pinto beans in the stew tonight, thanks to Chey's run."

"Don't encourage her," Daryl pointed at his wife with his spoon and arched eyebrows.

"At least someone appreciates me," Chey teased her father, and then took a bite of stew.

"I do, my love, but your father is right. You shouldn't have done that." Carol responded as she took her own bowl of stew in hand.

Chey looked into her lap once more. The family ate in silence, enjoying the added food in their usually bland stew.

"I did find something else," Chey interrupted the family's silence, reaching into her backpack that had been discarded earlier by the fire. She rummaged about the bottom for a moment while her parents watched with anticipation. After several frustrated seconds of furious digging, she uncovered the item and pulled it from the bag.

She held in her hand a Colt Python .357 Magnum. Daryl knew what it was the instant he saw the weapon in his daughter's hand.

"Where the fuck did you find that?" Daryl asked as he dropped his spoon into his bowl. Carol looked over to Daryl with a puzzled look upon her face.

"It was in the town. There were things thrown everywhere, some bullet holes in the wall. I got outta there as fast as I could, seeing the signs of trouble." Chey handed the weapon over to her father.

"What is it, Daryl?" Carol asked.

"It's Rick's gun."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: Thank you for all the encouragement so far! Here is chapter 2, again I don't own anything on TWD (and go watch A&E today [as long as it's still the first] to see who did!) but I do own the handful of characters that you do not recognize! :) Again- reviews are welcome, and criticism is encouraged!**

Carl took the gun from Daryl's hand as the group gathered around the camp's main fire pit. He ran his palm over the side of the Python, taking it in his right hand and weighing the weapon as he bounced it gently. He looked at it; it wasn't real to him at first. It took aiming it in front of him; squinting his left eye as his head cocked into his shoulder.

"Where'd you find this?" He looked up at Daryl as he let his hand with the Python fall to his side.

"I didn't," Daryl responded without blinking.

"Then where did it come from?" Carl looked up at Daryl, his face breaking with emotion.

"It was at the town that Glenn and ya're ol' man went to before—well," Daryl blinked at the young Grimes boy.

"You went there _without_ Law or myself?" Carl asked, his face growing red.

"I believe I am ya're elder, son. Didn't ya're ol' man teach ya ta respect 'em?" Daryl sneered.

"There's no need for this arguing," Carol stepped forward, putting her arms up. "Your father wouldn't have wanted that, Carl. And you know that."

"My father would have wanted me to keep this group safe!" Carl responded with flushed cheeks and narrowed blue eyes. "He would have wanted all of us to stay together."

"Carl," Beth stepped forward, her large blue eyes filled with tears. "None of us want to see anything happen to your dad or Glenn, especially after Maggie—" she placed a hand to her mouth, the other going to the gentle curve that began under her breasts.

"Exactly, that's why this group stays together. Daryl should know that better than anyone else." Carl responded.

"Ya want ta say something to my face, Grimes?" Daryl jumped forward, but Carol grabbed his arm to hold him back.

"What is going on?" A tall, dark man walked in the midst of the group. He was scratching his curly black beard as he looked around.

"Just some people runnin' off to town to be the hero," Carl shot a look at Daryl. "Finding stuff like this," He held out the Python to the black man.

"Stop it!" Chey couldn't take the blaming of her father anymore. Carl was seeing it as a betrayal and her father certainly didn't deserve the mistrust. "It was me, Law. It was me that went into the town without tellin' nobody."

Carl and Law turned to look at her, frowns worn on their mouths. "What were you thinkin'?" Law asked as he handed the Python back to Carl.

"She wasn't," her father responded as he took a step near his daughter. Chey's eyes went from looking into Law's dark eyes to looking at his sable work boots, now dusty from the months of travel.

"Are you bored?" Carl turned on Chey now. "Do you need some more chores to keep you outta trouble? We can always give you some more wash, make you settle down and do some cookin' for once." His blue eyes were cold on her.

"'Ey!" Daryl stepped in front of Chey "Ya don't speak to my daughter that way."

"Maybe she needs to be doing some more useful things, like helping with the cookin' and cleanin' instead of wanderin' the woods with her rifle in hand putting herself, and everyone else in danger."

"I'm doin' that to help the group!" Chey responded, brushing her chestnut hair away from her shoulder. "I'm out there gettin' food and makin' sure that this camp is _safe_."

"Just like Andrea," Carl said with a smile. "Just like Maggie."

"Carl," Law raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest.

"And what happened to them?" Carl stepped closer to Daryl and Chey. Daryl held his arm out to shield his daughter, his blue eyes boring holes into Carl. Chey was fighting the urge to shake in fear. Carl had this glare in his eye that came about when he was upset and it would be a lie to say it didn't' scare her.

"Carl," Beth stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, man, chill out," Law nudged him.

"There's a reason we have trained men to do the hard work." Carl ignored his partner and friend. "There is a reason that Maggie was the last girl to go out on runs. There is a reason I already told your father you were forbidden to go with him. Bad things happen. I'm just trying to watch out for you."

"Job's already taken," Daryl's eyebrow twitched as he took a step toward Carl. "I respect that you see yourself as the leader now," his breath was low and menacing. "But you are _not _my girl's father, you can't tell her what to do."

"I think we all need to take a step back and take a breather. This gun showin' up is a big deal to us all and I think the last thing we need to worry about right now is who went out. Let's focus on what to do about Rick and Glenn." Law put his hand on Carl's shoulder and gently pulled him back. "There will be consequences to face later, but now is not the time to talk about that." Law licked his lips and shifted his feet, placing a hand in his pocket. "Cherokee Rose, you will have punishment later on, Carl and I will talk about it this evening."

"I think we can parent our own daughter," Carol stepped forward with her hands on her hips. "She knows what she did was wrong and she isn't going to do it again."

"With all due respect, Mrs. Dixon, but Chey is no longer a small child and her offense was no small accident. It was a serious and potentially fatal decision and could put a lot of people at danger." Law bowed his head as he talked to her, trying to show respect to the older woman.

"This isn't something that we as a group should take lightly," Carl agreed. "I shouldn't have flown off the handle with your daughter, but there will need to be consequences. A few extra chores more likely,"

Chey hung her head, running a hand under her left eye as a tear slipped out. She should have just stayed behind; this hero mission was turning out to be nothing but a potful of trouble. "Yes sir,"

"Placing the thought of punishment behind, we do need to speak with you about where you found this," Law took control again, as he pointed to the gun. Chey looked up at her father, who nodded back at her and stepped aside. He reached over to squeeze her shoulder then placed a quick kiss on her temple.

"Where did you go, Chey?" Law asked.

"The town of Wilkesberry- where we've all been goin' the past couple months, I mean, where the runners have been going the past couple months." She replied. "There's not much there, really. Just some picked through supermarkets, a couple convenience stores. I was rummaging through one of the houses, thinkin' maybe there'd be more food there, maybe some baby clothes," she looked over at Beth, who smiled kindly at her with her tragic smile. "The last place I checked was the bar, thinkin' maybe I could get something extra special. A little icing on the cake, right? And there it was. Sittin' right on the porch. The gun, I mean, it was lyin' there. There was dirt all pushed all over the place. Blood was smeared all over the railing. I think there was a fight. Can't say for sure, but that's what I saw."

"Good, that's good, Chey." Law patted her shoulder, squeezing the muscle. "Good rememberin'."

"So does that mean somethin' is out there?" Sylvia stepped forward, her brown eyes lined with worry.

"It's possible," Carl nodded his head as he looked at the gun in his hand. "I mean, there was Woodbury and that was nearly twenty years ago, More people are bound to have banded together to make small communities."

"We should see what Merle says when he gets back," Beth replied, standing next to Carl now. She ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, rubbing his back as it slid down his neck.

"If he gets back," Law replied.

"My brother will be back." Daryl stepped forward again. "I don't like that ya'll are doing all this questionin' of my family."

"We just want facts, and Merle has been gone for three days. You really think he's gonna make it back? Maybe he got captured or killed, just like my dad and Glenn."

"My Uncle Merle ain't nothin' like your dad or Glenn," Chey crossed her arms now. Carol stepped forward and placed her arm around her daughter.

"We gotta figure some stuff out," Law looked over at Carl. "It's the middle of the day and it's sure to be one of the few warm ones we got left 'fore winter. Let's enjoy it while we can." He looked over at Carl, who nodded to him in understanding. "We'll talk to you later, Chey."

Carol patted her daughter's arm and turned her back to camp. Daryl soon followed on heel.

"Did someone mention me?" The voice was rough and breathy, it paused the group in its departure.

All turned to see Merle toting a large deer draped over his shoulders and several rabbits strung across his chest like a badge of honor. Daryl smiled at the sight of his brother, Carol let out a relieved laugh, and Chey let out a childish squeal of delight as she turned and ran to her uncle to give him a giant hug.

"I love how Carl Grimes is gonna tell me how ta parent my child," Daryl replied as he wiped the blood from his arms. He had been elbow deep in the young buck that his brother had brought back to camp for the group to eat. He had left Merle with his daughter, who had become quite the animal gutter of her own. He had raised her well; he would be damned to see Carl question his parenting.

"You know that Carl is just trying to look out for the best of the group." Carol responded from the log that she was leaning against as she mended a pair of Chey's jeans. Daryl groaned and ran a hand through his shaggy hair before settling down next to his wife. She turned to smile at him and place a kiss on his cheek. "Don't forget that in many ways, Carl himself is still a young boy. And now his father is gone. I am sure that he is trying to do what he thinks Rick would've." She turned back to her sewing as Daryl wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I don't want you to forget that you were asked to become the leader of this group and you turned it down."

"You think I should be leader of this group?" Daryl spat the question out with disgust.

"I am not your enemy, my love," Carol did not look up from the closing hole in the jeans. "I am just reminding you that you were offered to do a better job, if you thought that you could do one."

"I am having enough difficulty being the leader of that girl," he responded with a groan.

"She's a good kid; don't act like she's a tough case." Carol looked up now, her head cocked to look at her husband.

"Naw, she's not. I mean, Chey could've been Merle." He let out a laugh.

"You should be with Carl and Law deciding what to do about Rick and Glenn." Carol placed the jeans in her lap.

"D'ya _want _me to get into a fight?" Daryl asked with a laugh.

"No, but I think that you have the most experience out of those young men and maybe you can talk some sense into them. You need to figure out what happened to Rick." She said her voice filled with conviction and impatience. "I don't understand why they didn't take Chey and the gun and went on their way to find Rick and Glenn. Especially since Maggie…well since Maggie passed away and Glenn has been nothing but a wreck anyways. I don't understand why they even bothered to send him."

"That's a bit harsh," Daryl replied with a frown.

"Maybe, but Glenn left his daughter and son behind. That family is still so fresh from losing their mother and wife that I just think it was a bad idea for Glenn to go with Rick." Carol leaned on Daryl.

"Please, love, speak your mind," Daryl chuckled, his hand coming up to stroke her short, grey hair.

"It's ill of me to speak of those who are gone," She reached out to put her hand on his thigh. "I guess I just wish that we could fix something for Evan and Ashley. Maggie would have wanted Carl and Law to go out and get Glenn back; she would have gone herself."

"I am sure that Carl is holding back because of Beth," Daryl placed a gently kiss in Carol's hair. "I wouldn't have left you in that state to go on a hunt for someone we don't even know is out there. Even Merle,"

"Well, baby brother, I am sad to hear that." Merle interrupted Daryl and Carol as he and Chey approached. Chey was carrying a couple of the rabbits, Merle carried the knives.

"Done already?" Daryl asked as he looked up at his brother. "I hope that deer is done well,"

"Yahr daughter was the one that took over and practically did that whole deer 'erself. Taken all the fun outta it." Merle dropped the knives in front of the fire pit and reached over to rub his niece's head with his metal stump.

"Why does everyone insist on fuckin' up my hair?" Chey asked as she pushed against Merle's arm that had her in a slight chokehold.

"Cherokee Rose, watch your language!" Carol responded with shock.

"But dad always uses it!" Chey protested.

"An' when ya get old and ugly like yahr ol' man, yah can say that word." Merle added a couple more rubs with his stump arm and then let her go. "Listen ta yahr mom now, or ol' Uncle Merle'll help yahr ol' man make ya forget them words."

"How was the deer, Chey?" Daryl asked, still subconsciously stroking Carol's hair.

"It was a good one, lotsa meat on him." Chey responded as she placed the rabbits in a large plastic bucket that Carol had found a couple years ago. Merle squatted down to grab the pocket of knives and handed them over to his niece. "Did Carl or Law stop by yet?"

"No, they haven't." Carol replied, nestling into Daryl's chest. "Don't be surprised if you're gonna have to help me with the camp dinner in a few days and do some extra loads of laundry. Ashley'll be there, that should make things more enjoyable."

"Oh, Ashley makes things _real _enjoyable," Chey responded. Carol sat up and patted the ground next to her, a signal to her daughter to join her at her side.

"You need to learn to get along with Ashley; you two are going to be with each other for hopefully your entire lifetime. She is as much your family as Uncle Merle." She looked over to her husband's brother.

"She's right, Chey. There'll be lotsa people ya don't give a rat's ass about. An' ya gotta have their back if ya want to survive. Some of them needs lotsa of help too, take yahr pa here for example." He smiled while Daryl glared at his brother.

"Right now that would be Carl," Chey replied with a grumble.

"Carl is tryin' real hard to do what's right," Daryl looked over at his daughter. Carol sat behind her now, brushing out her chestnut hair with her fingers. "He has a big man to live up to. Ya know his pa was one hell of a man and Carl is tryin' ta do the same thing. He's young, he's scared, he's gotta pregnant woman—there's a lot ridin' on him right now and he's got no time ta mourn for his ol' man."

"Your dad is right," Carol assured her as she began to divide her daughter's hair to begin to braid it again.

"So we're just gonna leave Office Happy and the Asian out there without a rescue mission? That seems a bit cruel," Merle commented.

"How'd ya find out already?" Daryl groaned. He was hoping to give Merle a very brief and basic description of what happened. His brother was in no better shape than he to go out on his own on rescue mission.

"Yahr daughter is an honest one, a great Dixon, fillin' her uncle in on the daily happenin's of the group. Course, it was my great influence on her, baby brother." Merle smiled with pride. Carol rolled her eyes as her daughter let out a laugh.

"Yeah, well it's up to Carl and Law. I am letting them make the calls." Daryl frowned over at Merle.

"I don't understand why ya let all these pussies tell ya what to do. Y'know we are the best trackers, the best hunters, the best shooters there is." Merle said with a smile.

"Yeah, well, the thing is that this little mess we've had ourselves in the past twenty something years has changed that." Daryl shook his head. "Even Carol over here can make good use of a machine gun."

"That's because mom is a badass." Chey responded. Carol groaned.

"Is the potty mouth also a hereditary trait?" She looked over to Merle. Merle looked at Daryl with a puzzled look.

"There's something wrong with her speech? I think she talks fine." Merle responded. "Damn fine Dixon, like I always say."

"Mmm, point proven." Carol responded as she tied off her daughter's hair. She placed a kiss on the back of her daughter's neck.

"We still are the best, dad," Chey responded. "Ashley and Evan are not as skilled as I am and Sylvia isn't of much use. Jude has become a good markswoman, but she's also not interested in using weapons against people, the ninny. Artie can make good use of a gun, but he's so loud in the woods. If we have to sneak up on a camp like y'all had to do with Woodbury, we'd be sending flares with him in the forest."

"She's a smart one," Merle smiled. Daryl sighed.

"So are you saying the group shouldn't go and get Glenn and Rick?" Carol asked as she tugged her daughter's braid.

"No, I think we should." Chey turned to look at her mother, placing her hands on Carol's thighs. "I think we should go. Make it a good ol' Dixon rescue. We could do it, all of us. And you can come too, Mom. We can't let Carl tellin' us that we are gonna end up like Andrea and Maggie. Things happen, right? It doesn't mean it's because we're girls."

"Damn right," Daryl replied. Carol sighed and looked over her shoulder at her husband.

"So, are you saying that you agree with this?" She asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah," Daryl nodded his head. "I think this is a great idea. We could easily track them down in the woods. Merle and I leadin', you and Chey in the back with the weapons. No need to talk with one another, we can practically read each other's minds. We could jus' leave. If Carl and Law decide to head south for the winter then we can just track 'em back. It's easy in and out, maybe a week?"

"I like this plan," Merle nodded his head. "This could work real well."

"I don't know," Carol shook her head with worry.

"Please, mom," Chey begged. Carol grabbed her daughter's wrists.

"It's not like we're deciding on getting a pet, this is serious," Carol responded. Daryl made his way over to his wife, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and placing a kiss on her cheek.

"She knows that, this world is always serious." Daryl murmured. Carol looked into her daughter's blue eyes then into her husband's.

"Fine," She laughed. Chey let out a squeal and Daryl placed a kiss on her mouth.

"Please, all this family touching is making me sick," Merle groaned.

"Get in here, Uncle Merle," Chey pulled her in and the family hugged.

"We can plan this tonight, head out tomorrow morning before dawn," Daryl looked at Merle, then Carol, and finally Chey. "We can't let anyone else know: they'll try an' stop us."

"Thanks for calling The Dixon Rescue Mission, we're on our way Mr. Grimes!" Chey held up a fake phone made of her thumb and pinky to her mouth. She wasn't sure exactly what a phone was, but she used to play a game like this with her mother when she was young. And she felt it was a nice touch for now. If anything, it made her parents and uncle laugh.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun was just barely coming over the mountains in the far distance as the Dixons pulled together knapsacks of food, medical supplies, and weapons in the dim light. Chey had not been able to sleep the night before, but the lack of sleep had not settled into her limbs and she felt wide awake. Her adrenaline was pumping as her body registered that it was time to move again. It was used to always being on the run. The group never settled down in a place for more than a week or so at a time; her mother had explained that staying in once place too long often brought disastrous consequences. People died when feet stopped moving. That was how Lori died, that was how T-Dog died. That was how Patricia, and Shane, and so many more ghosts that she never knew from the past died and their memories haunted the older members of the group.

Chey thought that the belief was archaic. Moving did not keep people alive; Andrea had died, Maggie had died, Michonne had died, and their nomadic lifestyle had not preserved their lives any longer. It made many of the members weaker, susceptible to disease, and weary from little rest. Chey dreamed for a time when the makeshift family would settle into a town like the infamous Woodbury- not that she would dare tell anyone that; not even her parents. Woodbury was a scar on the group's past and no one wanted to talk about it outside of using its tale to warn the little ones about the dangers of escaping a democracy.

_Ironic, isn't it?_ Chey had said to her mother one time, when she learned what the word ironic meant. They told the children to be wary of a dictatorship when their little group was not far from one. Power was divided, though not equally. Chey saw that Rick had the most control when he was around. Not that she minded. He was a good man, fair and honest, but it still didn't seem fair that others were held back. Nothing she could do about it, being so young. So she bit her tongue to the point where the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth during some of the meetings were Rick told everyone what their chores were. And usually Chey was stuck with a menial job by her mother's side; washing laundry, doing dishes, or cooking food. Nothing she was particularly fond of. Even if these jobs meant survival.

"We need to head out soon, 'fore it gets too light." Her father whispered to her mother. Carol nodded her head and looked over at Chey. Merle was already standing with a small pack around his back, a handgun at his side, and a knife attached to his knobbed arm.

"I just need to get my gun; it's with all the others at the front of camp." Chey whispered. Rick had banned all guns from the younger generation, save his sister, after Maggie's incident. Chey had argued with Rick that it wasn't the gun's fault but the weapon's defective user; unfortunately that line was also what had persuaded the fearless leader to tell her to take her place and that she wouldn't have her own weapon outside of a move until she was eighteen. Regardless, Chey still knew how to break into the gun chest that Rick kept in the back of the caravan. Locks were something that Chey had come to learn inside and out due to her father's instruction, she could pick any lock that could potentially separate her and the promise of food. Her life was about survival; thankfully her father had taught her that well.

Chey crept through camp, moving softly and slowly to keep her breath shallow. The other dwindling members of the group were sound asleep in their tents, some even snoring in the hush of the chilly morning.

The chest was sitting with a pile of other supplies that had been emptied from the caravan when Rick and Glenn had taken it on their last, and final, run. The pile sat mostly untouched next to the log. It was a wonder that the group was still here; they were pushing two weeks and yet no one had moved to begin to pick up the gear, pack it into the Jeep to prepare of the next move. Chey was thankful for that in this moment. She made her way across the clearing, her foot only snapping a small twig in the process.

The chest sat underneath an extra sleeping bag, which Chey quickly moved aside. She pulled her knife from its sheath that was tucked into her belt loop, kneeling down before the chest and placing the end of her knife into the keyhole. She began to pick at the lock, her tongue angled out the corner of her mouth while she concentrated, and waiting impatiently for the fall of the tumble of the lock.

"I got a keep for that."

The voice startled her and Chey fell back, knife in hand ready to strike. It was Ashley. She stood with a key in her hand, her soft hazel eyes set on Chey.

"What the hell do you want?" Chey hissed.

"I want to go with you." Ashley replied firmly.

"What?" Chey asked with a laugh. "You can't be serious, and where do you think I am going?"

"Evan overheard y'all talking last night in your camp, he told me. And we want to go with you."

"I'm sorry, since when did _I _become _we_? No way in hell!" Chey shook her head. Ashley folded her fingers around the key that she had slid into the palm of her hand, her mouth turning into a frown.

"I'll tell Carl, then. And you'll be in even bigger trouble for trying to pick the lock." She threatened. Chey groaned.

"Fine, give me the fuckin' key."

"You've got quite the mouth." Ashley blinked. Chey snorted and turned to place the key in its home. She turned it gently, the lock pop opening with a click. She removed the lock and opened the top, pulling the handgun her father had given her from the top of the bin, where she had placed it after a long hunting weekend with her father and Uncle Merle in the woods.

"Let's go, Dixon." Ashley growled.

"Yeah, you going to be roaming the woods with that outfit and no gear?" Chey raised an eyebrow.

"Evan's already at your camp, convincing your pa to let you go." Ashley said as she picked up a bag she had placed behind the log. Chey narrowed her eyes at the girl.

"Fine, but my pa is gonna say no. It's a suicide mission for you and Evan to go." She said as she placed the lock back on the chest and then stood.

"It's my dad that whoever it is took. I want to find out what happened," the other girl's lip quivered as she placed the strap of the back over her shoulder. "My dad's all I got left beside Evan. I can't live not knowing what happened to him."

Chey's heart sunk for the girl for a moment. She hated Ashley, just as much as she suspected the girl hated her, but Chey was lucky. She had both her parents. That was not true for most of the kids her age that she had come across or who were alive in the group. She and Carl's unborn baby would be the only ones in the group with both parents still living.

"Well, remember they're still gonna say no." Chey responded as she turned and led Ashley back to group, tucking her handgun into the back of her jeans as she led the way.

* * *

"What do you mean they are going with us?" Chey was red in the face, a breathy exhale escaping her lips as she did her best to control her anger. Carol knew her daughter was one bad news short of taking a swinging at the next passerby.

"I told ya what was happenin', ya respect that." Daryl replied, warning filling his husky voice. Carol shook her head as she reached out for her daughter, trying to subconsciously calm her down.

"You know that if we leave them behind, they are just going to follow us," she rubbed her daughter's hand gently. Chey's blue eyes narrowed, Carol knew she was furious. "Chey, if your father or I had gone missing you would have been out there looking for us. Glenn is all these kids have left; they are safer with us than they would be out on their own."

"We don't need to be explainin' nothin' to ya anyways. If yer ma or I tell ya to do something, ya do it!" Daryl replied as he hitched his crossbow across his chest. Carol took up the backpack that she was holding in her hand while Merle joined the small family.

"What the hell is this I hear about the Asian's two young kids?" Merle's raspy voice laughed at the idea. "Yah want us to become walker-bait?"

"These kids want their pa; it's what I owe 'em." Daryl didn't look at his brother; he kept his head down as he walked between Carol and Chey. Carol tightened the straps around her shoulders and followed her husband as he made his way to the two young people standing right outside their camp.

"Now, I need ya kids ta stay close," he looked at them through his weather beaten eyes, his fingers dancing lightly over the string that held his crossbow to his body. "I tell ya to do somethin', ya do it."

"Yes sir," Evan spoke up quickly; he was holding a hatchet in his hands as he stood shaking before Daryl. Carol could see how young he was in the pale morning light- he had shaggy brown hair that hadn't been cut since his mother was alive, it nearly covered the dark brown eyes. He was definitely Glenn's boy, right down to the worried expression on his face. Carol's heart dropped for the young man as her husband looked down on him.

"I said do ya _understand_?" This time he looked at Ashley, she had stood like a stone pillar before. Her slant hazel eyes looking through Daryl, rather than at him. She was somewhere else, even if her body was presently here. She did not shake with cold, though goose bumps could be seen on her bare pale forearms and trails of condensation blew from her mouth like the smoke rings that Daryl and Merle blew whenever they found a pack of cigarettes on the run. She was Maggie's girl; tough and unmoving, even if she did not have the survival instincts that her matriarch had.

"We gotta be goin', baby brother," Merle blinked into the dawning rays of the sun. "'Fore Officer Friendly Jr. takes notice that we ain't doin' our chores." He hooked his own backpack with his stump arm, pulling it up and over his shoulder in a smooth arc. Carol watched Evan's eyes widen at the sight, and she smiled to herself. Merle could be a little intimidating to anyone outside the family.

Chey took the spot next to her father, her uncle to her right shoulder. It was the inseparable trio; the three hunted and fished and fought together. This was just another day for them. It was a shame that they had tag-a-longs. Not that Carol really minded. She was used to following her family; she was unbothered by the silence that lasted for hours. She had come to love the sound of the birds, the rustling of the trees at the movement of the wind, and the crunch of footfalls over the forest leaves. It was the same thing that Daryl, Merle, and Chey listened to, but in a different tone. They heard the distance from them to a possible dinner, the sound of a possible predator on their tail, and always, _always _they heard the breathing of the Walkers, even from a distance away. Even Carol had begun to pick up on the growling groan of the undead. This was becoming just like another day for her.

Evan and Ashley did not seem so comforted. They fell in line awkwardly after the trio standing rather close to the other. Evan was clearly upset and confused as he leaned into his sister's black, wavy hair to whisper into her ear. Ashley remained stoic, but her eyes told a different story. Carol knew the truth that was always told by the eyes. Her large hazel eyes showed that she was terrified of leaving the camp to walking to the unknown. She saw a wild panic behind them as she leaned over to her brother, her nostril's flickering as she was trying to whisper encouragement and comfort. So Carol found it easy to walk behind the two, closing in on the siblings as the walk turned from across the meadow and into the forest.

"They'll get us through this," Carol interrupted the whispering of Evan, placing a hand on each of the teenager's shoulders. "We'll find your pa, and he'll be alive."

The children fell quiet, the sound of boots crunching leaves and the pop of a stone hitting a shoe filled her ears again. Evan glanced back a couple times, though he did not make an attempt to lean over to whisper something more to his sister. Carol continued to smile in hopes to relax both of them, but internally she frowned over their silence.

"Thanks for convincing Daryl to let us come," it was Ashley who finally spoke up.

"I know you would have followed us, or worse, went out on your own if we had gone and you had stayed," Carol replied with understanding. "I know what it's like to lose someone. The want to go out and find them, especially if there is a prayer of them surviving- I know it's a burning desire. You're safe with us; we'll protect you from what's out there. I can't assure that you'd be safe in these woods on your own."

"We're not children," Evan looked back, his dark eyes filled with anger. "I know that this world is hell, and I realize that I could die at any moment. I've had to sleep every night of my life not knowing if I'll wake up the next morning. I don't need a guidebook on how to survive this world; I could fuckin' write it."

Evan's outburst caused Daryl and Chey to glance behind. Carol smiled even wider, trying to assure them that everything was alright. Evan now crossed his arms in front of him, his head hanging visibly lower as he walked forward.

"I shouldn't patronize you," Carol offered an apology, reaching toward Evan, who only pulled away at her touch.

"C'mon Evan, don't be such a toad about it," his sister nudged him with her elbow. "If you're nice, Daryl might even teach you a couple tracking tips."

"He does enjoy teaching," Carol replied with a smirk. "I think it's his way of showing off."

"Daryl ain't going to teach me nothing with Cherokee Rose around," Evan's hand flew forward, as if to flick the girl in front of him off her feet with the gesture.

"_Isn't,_ Evan. And you used a double negative. You know that mom wouldn't want you to speak improperly. She gave us the best education she had, now use it. And apologize to Carol." There was warning in Ashley's voice. Evan winced at his sister's correction, but he turned quickly and offered a quick apology to Carol.

"Maybe if you just asked him he would be willing. After all, you two are going to be with us as we look for your father, might be a useful tool to have." Carol suggested, shaking off the insult that she knew Evan didn't really mean. Teenagers were so quick to say things that were not thought through, she knew that even from her childhood. She also knew from her teenage years that impulsive decisions were also an adolescent trademark.

"Shh!" Daryl's hush echoed through the woods and Carol's eyes lifted over the heads of the siblings in front of her to notice that her family was now crouching.

"Get down!" She commanded in a fierce whisper, tumbling forward to pull the two siblings down by their shoulders. They were on their heels, crouching in the bushes of the forest in moment.

"Yeah, I heard it too," Merle nodded his head.

"Don't sound big enough to be a herd," Chey responded. Carol rolled her eyes as her child's sense of grammar flew out the window with her father and uncle.

"Hard ta say," Daryl responded, he held his buck knife in his left hand as he slowly tiptoed to the nearest tree to peer from behind.

"Where one is, there's always more,"Chey's head bobbed in agreement with her father. She held a buck knife in her hand as well. Merle's arm (complete with attached knife) rose in the air preparing for defense as he crept up behind his brother.

"Whadya think we should do with those kids?" His head flicked back toward Ashley and Evan. Carol could hear the sibling's heavy breathing, surely panic was arising in their mind. No one ever walked into a herd of walkers; that was a suicide mission. No, they had not traveled with the Dixon clan.

"Carol," Daryl's whisper made it all the way to her. She rose on her heels to meet his gaze, nodding her head in understanding as his eyes flicked to the kids and his finger pressed to his lip.

"Ashley, Evan," she fell forward into the two, her arms enveloping their backs. "You need to get ready to head forward. We are going to move very quietly, watching out for sticks and rocks, but you need to have your weapons out. Hold your knives in your fist, blade pointing down," she pulled her own knife out in demonstration. The wooden handle was comfortable in her hand, the blade pointing in toward her dirty forearm. She swiped at the air, demonstrating to the teens how to attack. "You let us take care of 'em if we have to, no need playing unnecessary heroics. Your time for Walker killing will come."

"Why the hell are we going into them?" Evan asked, his narrow eyes widening.

"Just do what she says," Ashley pushed him roughly then rolled to her heels with her knife in her hand, just as Carol had showed her. Carol nodded at her.

Carol then looked at her husband and gave a nod. Daryl's hand swept toward him and Chey joined his side. He leaned over to whisper something in her ear. She glanced back at Carol and the teens and sighed heavily. She nodded her head when she looked back to her father; he leaned forward and placed a kissed on her forehead. She now crept back to the small group.

"Okay, so Pa and Uncle Merle are going to go toward the herd, we are going around." She instructed the group. "There's a set of footprints, probably a couple weeks old at least, that we've picked up on. It heads right to that group, we gotta take the chance. I'm gonna go with you guys; see if we can pick up on the tracks on the other side of the herd. Pa and Uncle Merle are going to follow the tracks. We meet up when we meet up."

Carol reached out and placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder. Next she looked over Chey to Daryl; he looked back and nodded his head at her.

_"__Stay safe," _He mouthed.

Carol held up nine fingers in response. She turned, putting a hand on Ashley's shoulder. "If we're going to go, we have to go now."

Chey nodded her head in agreement. Carol held her breath as she watched her daughter rise, sending a prayer up to whatever God still existed. Not that there was much proof of one in the midst of this living hell. She prayed more for Ashley and Evan than she did for Chey. Chey was a fighter, her father through and through.

Carol could only hope that the one thing Glenn had passed onto Ashley and Evan was his luck.

She let go of her breath as Ashley and Evan now rose, Evan cracking a twig in his standing. Both Merle and Daryl turned with narrowed eyes as Evan jumped back, his mouth turning in a grimace as he stepped forward. His eyes were glued to the ground before him.

Carol now rose to her height and flanked the siblings. She would have rather been at her daughter's side, but she couldn't leave Ashley and Evan exposed. She would have to be behind them to protect their backs.

Chey led the trio quickly through the woods. The sound of the stomach turning groans of the dead came from every direction and Carol relied heavily on her daughter's instincts. She could hear Daryl and Merle stomping through the woods to her left. They were purposeful in their ruckus, drawing whatever Walkers who had interest in the larger group of humans toward them. The sound of shaking leaves, bouncing rocks, and snapping branches joined in the cacophony of the Walker's groans and cries. It was not just the two brothers moving through the woods, it was the Walkers as well.

Carol looked forward to Chey, she was winding the two siblings through the woods quickly. She had reached out a hand to Ashley, who had taken it and was using it as a guide. Evan had taken his sister's hand as he quickly followed behind. Carol's heartbeat was racing in her throat, her stomach turning with acid as she realized her fear. She was taking deep breaths, trying to calm down as she hurried behind the teenagers. Panic brought hasty decisions and poor insight. She need to keep her head and her wits about her, Chey couldn't be the only sane one.

"They're getting more quiet!" Evan exclaimed. Chey's head turned to give him a glare, the boy clamped his hand over his mouth in response.

"We're not out of the clear yet," she reminded him as she surged forward. Carol knew that they were close, though. The sound of travelling undead were growing fainter, Carol knew that Daryl and Merle's plan had worked. She sent up a prayer of thanks to the Lord that may still be there.

It was a prayer said too early, for after she opened her eyes (she hadn't realized she had shut them for that quick moment), her ears were filled with the sound of Ashley's screams. Chey let out her own cry and then the distinctive sound of Walker groan followed. Carol spun in a circle. They were outnumbered.

The Walkers were closing in. Chey and Carol instinctively formed a circle to protect one another's backs.

The first Walker made it way toward them, Chey swooping forward to grab its neck and force her buck knife into the base of the skull, a sickening _squish _accompanying the stab. Carol made her way toward a man, dressed in full fatigues, who was making his way toward the circle. She grabbed hold of his reflective vest, ripping his canvas hat off his head. A hunter, damn shame he didn't have his gun attached to his back still. Carol pushed his head forward as she sunk her own knife into the base of his skull.

Ashley let out a scream and Evan cried out. Carol spun to see that a young Walker, no more than ten, had her small fingers entangled in Ashley's hair. She was grabbing on tightly, Ashley was doing her best to rip it away.

"Oh shit! Ashley!" Evan was crying, frozen in his spot.

"_Fuck! Do something!" _Chey cried from the back of another Walker. She quickly wrapped her legs around the heavyset woman's waist, her arms arching over her head to drive the knife into the skull. She tried to rip it out, but the blade was stuck. "_Shit!"_

"Ashley," Evan screamed again, the Walker's mouth was close to the girl's shoulder. Ashley flailed against the Walker's grip. She was writhing in pain as her dark hair was starting to rip from her scalp.

"Ashley!" Carol cried as she tried to move forward, but instead was stopped by another Walker. She lunged forward to finish it.

Everything was moving slowly, she could see every moment like a photo flipbook. And things weren't going well for Ashley.

_Poor Evan, _Carol thought as she drove her knife up into the Walker's throat. _He has to lose his whole family. _

Ashley was fighting and kicking, her knife lying on the ground. Evan was now being pushed away from his sister by another Walker.

It was wrong for her to convince Daryl to let these kids out here; she was only signing their death letter.

_What were they going to tell Carl? _


End file.
